d Florence.

So that question being decided they left them, "like birds in their
nest," said Dimple, and started for home, for it was growing late.

"We couldn't carry the kittens home to-night, anyhow," said Florence;
"but I do hope we can see them often, and that I can take mine home."

She did take it home, and it grew to be a big cat; though before she
went, the children often laughed to see Rock coming in with the three
little things in a basket, bringing them over for a visit. He did this
several times, taking them back to their mother, until one day they came
to stay.

Although time dragged, eight o'clock did come at last, and the hour
brought Mrs. Dallas.

"And you are really glad to have me back again," she said, with an arm
around each little girl, "though you were so glad to have me go. And how
did the pie turn out?"

"It wasn't good," admitted Dimple, candidly; "so we gave it to an
organ-grinder."

"What charitable, generous children, to be sure," laughed Mrs. Dallas.
"By the way, Dimple, I forgot to tell you that possibly the paperhanger
might be here; he was to come one day this week to paper the upper
hall."

Dimple looked at Florence and Florence looked at Dimple. "We thought he
was a crazy man," presently said the latter, in a shamefaced way.

"Crazy! Why, what do you mean?"

"He came to the side door," explained Dimple. "Those were rolls of paper
on his back, Florence, and we got frightened and wouldn't let him in."

"You silly little geese! I see I must not leave you again."

"But everything else was all right," Florence informed her, "only I
burned my hand a little. I had almost forgotten it, Dimple."

"Then you don't want me to go away, altogether," said Mrs. Dallas.

"No indeed," said they both, in the most emphatic manner.

"You dearest, loveliest," continued Dimple; "it is too delicious to see
you again."

"And I didn't dream about the crazy man after all," said Florence, the
next morning.

CHAPTER VIII

Adrift

During this time Mr. Atkinson was not forgotten, and the two little
girls spent many a happy morning in his beautiful garden, for even the
small house which Mr. Dallas had built for Dimple, was not proof against
the attractions Mr. Atkinson's place had to offer. They were careful not
to venture beyond bounds, and kept in the walks and on the porches, but
one hot day they wandered down to where a fence marked the limits of the
place in that direction. Then